Stan Killed Kenny!
by Jack Meridoodoo
Summary: Well, as the title says
Wendy was always one of the good ones. With such soft hair, fair skin, a fucking A+ rack. Oh man, and he ass? Don't get me started. A down side is she doesn't _just_ fuck. No, she talks and talks and _talks._ This time it was about Stan. He went off and fucked Red or something, I think. Oh man, I wonder what Craig's gonna do when he finds out. Probably something gnarly. Man, I hope I'm there to see it. Craig on top of Stan, beating his face in. I've always wanted to see Stan fucked up. I don't know what it is.

Maybe it's because he's so disgustingly perfect. -Player, perfect grades, perfect girlfriend. He can get anyone he wants. Or, as it seems, fuck anyone he wants. Oh, with someone so perfect, I'd pay to see him with blood dripping down his face. Even if its Tucker that does it. Actually, now that I think about it, having Tucker be the one to do the deed is _better._ Oh man Stan hates Craig, thinks he's so much better. Craig being the one to take him down would be movie quality.

As I walk, after forever of silence, I hear someone coming up behind me. Which would be less alarming if it weren't the dead of night and the pace was too fast to be a casual midnight stroll. I don't get the time to turn around before something heavy gets me in the back of the head. Oh man, what the fuck? Whoever is hitting me then just shoves me down. Which would be fine if not for the noted crack resounding my nose, accompanied with stinging pain on the bridge.

Great, now this jackass broke my fucking nose AND scraped it up. All I get out is a groan and a quiet, "Mother _fucker_ " before I'm rolled over, and ugh whoever this is is now on top of me and I'm pinned down. Thanks, Jesus. Ha ha. Wait, I'm on my back now, I can just look at who it is. I focus my eyes enough to see, and who other than Wendy's knight in shining armor himself. Stan. I was about to give him a good, friendly greeting when he just starts pounding my poor lil face in.

How fucking rude. He just keeps fucking going, too. I end up getting my cheek on my teeth, and one punch actually sends a tooth loose. Finally, he stops, gripping the front of my jacket tightly in his hands. He sounds drunk (shocker) and angry. His voice cracks as he speaks, "Did you fuck her?"

What a stupid question. Of course I did. I have the 20 dollars in my pocket to prove it. But instead of giving him his answer, I just spit my tooth and a fair amount of blood off to the side, letting it hit the pavement. "Wow, Stan, it's nice to see you, too. How's the family?"

My sarcasm is returned only with being slammed back (unnecessarily hard, by the way) onto the sidewalk, and honestly the world kind of ripples for a second. Yeah, I'm definitely bleeding back there. I barely catch it as he repeats himself, much more stern this time. Like hes my parent or something. I just roll my eyes, sighing, "Yes, I fucked her. Are you happy now, ?" of course he isn't. He just glares and starts hitting me again, insulting me, shooting low blows that actually kinda sting.

But its when he stops that my attention is caught. He.. he has his hands around my throat and hes squeezing. Not yet tight enough to cut off airflow, but the warning is there. The words leave him and its amusing how dark it is. "I'm going to kill you." And my eyes widen. Not in fear, or shock. No, something else. Something best described as sadistic amusement as a bloody smile crosses my face, blood all over my tongue, running past my lips onto my Jacket.

"Do it, marsh." something inside of my snaps, breaks open to reveal a part of me that only comes out in moments like this, "C'mon Stan, do it. Kill me. Oh, man, I love to die. I love feeling the life _drain_ out of me. Ooooh, nothings better. Oh man and the best part is how every time I think 'this is it, the lat time'. The moment I finally _rot_ in hell." I laugh bitterly, shifting, "And I never do. I just get to look back and think about it, dying, oh man the feeling is almost orgasmic. It can really get a guy off."

I laugh again, but its more at the look on Stan's face. Confusion. A little scared, even. Im freaking him out. I'm about to keep going when he squeezes too hard, my head flooding with a feeling like im swimming as he growls out a "Stop fucking talking." I keep my eyes locked on his as my mind becomes too fuzzy. I wonder, momentarily, how purple my face is. I grip at his wrists tightly, squirming uncomfortably. Not too dissimilar to a worm. Then my vision tunnels, and the last thing I see is Stans face.

That _hilarious_ expression.

And then everything's black.


End file.
